


More Heart Than Brains

by Saoirse_Laochra



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7403014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saoirse_Laochra/pseuds/Saoirse_Laochra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin sighed. "On your feet, Kili. You and your brother have already said you'll do as you wish, and to the Pits of Doom with what what I wish. I suppose there's nothing for it but to let you along. I've always said you've had more heart than brains, boy. Let's hope we all live long enough prove me wrong."</p><p>A series of add-on scenes to the movies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forgiveness and Permission

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is a repost from FF.net, edited and redone.
> 
> Essentially this is a group of add-on scenes, little additions from the movie.

The hobbit hole of Bag End was quiet, for the most part. The usual sounds of snoring could be heard from those of the dwarves who were asleep, scattered as they were throughout the house. Every room held at least two sleeping dwarves, excepting the front room.

And even that held two dwarves, although they were far from asleep.

"I told you not to bring him." Thorin Oakenshield's deep voice was low, but filled with barely contained anger as he stared into the dying embers of the hearth. "He's too young."

The blonde dwarf scoffed quietly as he leaned back in his chair, fingers tracing the wood carving on the empty stein. "He's but five years younger than I, Uncle."

"It was not just  _physical_  age I spoke of, Fili, and you know it. Your brother has never been further than a league from the Blue Mountains – if he's gone that far. He knows nothing of war, nothing of the world outside of his own home," Thorin said firmly, taking a long puff off his pipe.

"Neither do I, Uncle."

"Aye, but you are my heir, Fili. You'll have to learn, sooner or later what it is to be king,” Thorin said darkly. “One day you will take the throne of Erebor, and you need to be prepared. This journey is to teach you what it is to be of Durin’s lineage.”

"And just how do you expect Kili to learn then, Uncle? He is a Prince of Erebor, if not a Crown Prince. How is he to learn? As you said: he's never been further than the foothills of the mountain, on  _your_  insistence," Fili said firmly, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees as he shook his head. "I know you think him a bit...  _carefree_... at times, but, Uncle... I swear to you, there is  _no one_  I would rather have at my side. Not even you."

Thorin sat quietly a moment, before letting his piercing gaze meet his oldest nephew's. "Do you know what a time I had, just convincing your mother to let _you_ come along with me, Fili? She's already lost her father. Her mother. Her husband. One of her brothers. It's not fair to ask her to give  _both_  her sons as well."

Fili returned his gaze, standing slowly, as he said, "He will come whether you wish it or not, Uncle. The only way to have made him stay behind would have been to chain him to his bed, and even then, I doubt it would stop him for long. Would you have him follow behind us, like some stray dog, traveling on his own? For that _is_ what he will do if you refuse to let him accompany you." The young dwarf prince turned, and took a few steps towards the hallway, before stopping, and giving his uncle a small smile.

"Would _you_ have done any different, Uncle? Would you expect any less?"

* * *

 

Thorin had sat silently for some time, letting his nephew's words roll around in his head as he puffed on his pipe, far too alert for any sort of sleep. Sighing as he realized his pipe was empty, he reached into the small tobacco pouch at his side. His fingers idly traced over the ornate needlework for a few moments –his sister had made him the pouch for his seventy-fifth birthday. He sighed again, setting the pipe aside.

"You might as well come sit with me, laddie. Keep your old Uncle company."

He couldn't help the small smile when he heard Kili's muttered curse, as the sound of footsteps met his ears. A few seconds later, his darker-haired nephew sat himself in the chair his brother had vacated, fingers twitching around his ( _hopefully empty_ ) stein.

"I specifically told you that you were not to accompany your brother. As a matter of fact, I remember quite clearly telling you to stay home, and look after your mother," The older dwarf said slowly, tapping the few remaining embers from his pipe, before refilling it. "Am I getting...  _senile_... in my old age, or did you deliberately disobey me?"

"You are many things, Uncle, but senile isn't one of them," Kili said, half a smile coming to his face. "But I remembered something a very great dwarf told me when I was still a dwarfling."

"Oh? Did you know? And what, pray tell, did this great dwarf tell you so very recently?" Thorin had the briefest hint of satisfaction at the embarrassed look on Kili's face at mention of his very few years. But it was a fleeting emotion, as the youngest of the House of Durin set his shoulders square, and finally looked his uncle in the eye.

"He told me once that it was better to ask forgiveness for one's transgressions, than it was to ask permission to commit them."

* * *

 

" _Mummy says I'm not 'llowed in the forge yet, Uncle."_

_Thorin chuckled as he took his young nephew's hand, leading him through the winding streets of the city. "Did she now?"_

" _Uh huh. Said not ‘til I've had my twenty-fifth name day," The dark-haired dwarfling said miserably, the prospect of waiting another five years seeming to be ages away._

_Thorin stopped, kneeling down to look the small dwarf in the eyes. "Most times, Kili... You listen to your mother. But as for this... Well. Sometimes, laddie... It's better to ask forgiveness for one's transgressions than it is permission to commit them. Besides. Durin's blood runs through your veins, boy; smithing is in your blood."_

* * *

 

Thorin gave his nephew a sharp smile. "Well, at the very least, I'll say you have Durin's long memory, nephew. That was nigh on fifty years ago, if it was a day."

Kili gave him a sheepish smile. "I've used that saying many a time since then, Uncle."

"Much to your mother's misery, no doubt,” Thorin said gruffly. “Your brother tells me it's no use, telling you to return home. Says you'll follow us anyways, no matter what I say."

"And why shouldn't I, Uncle? You said it yourself often enough: Durin's blood runs through my veins, and there's more than smithing in that blood," Kili said determinedly, pushing himself to his feet, and pacing around the room. "My heart _aches_ for want of battle, Uncle. And it nearly _breaks_ at the thought of sitting at home, defending nothing more than a dying hearth, while others fight to reclaim our home! And you've no right to ask that of me! You, who fought and defeated Azog the Defiler while you were barely in your nineties! You who have lead our people since that very _day_! Please, Uncle," Kili begged, dropping to one knee in front of Thorin, placing his hand on the elder dwarf's. "I beg of you, do not send me back. Give me this chance to prove myself to you. I will not fail you. I swear it."

Thorin sighed. "On your feet, Kili. You and your brother have already said you'll do as you wish, and to the Pits of Doom with what what  _I_ wish. I suppose there's nothing for it but to let you along. I've always said you've had more heart than brains, boy. Let's hope we all live long enough prove me wrong."

* * *

 

"What'd he say, brother?"

Kili grinned as he entered the small pantry where he and Fili had elected to lay down their bedrolls. "I'm going along."

Fili scoffed as he rolled over on his side, propping his head on one fist as he stared at his brother. "Only because I softened him up for you."

"Oh aye, malleable as butter he was," Kili said, rolling his eyes as he lay down, hands folded behind his head. After a few moments, Fili began to think his brother was asleep, and he'd started to doze off himself.

"Did you mean what you said, Fili?"

With a groan, Fili opened his eyes again. "Did I mean what?"

"That... that you'd rather have me by your side than anyone else?"

Fili smiled, reaching across the small space between them, and grasped Kili's hand in his own.

"I'd take you over any army in Middle Earth, little brother. Even if you don't have a beard yet," He added with a chuckle.

"I do so!" Kili retorted, pulling his hand back, and running it over the dark hair under his chin.

"That's not a beard, brother. It's… peach fuzz."


	2. Wager

"Do you think he'll show?"

Fili rolled his eyes at his little brother, giving Kili a grin. "Really, little brother? You heard him last night; can't imagine a little fellow like that stepping outside of his little hole for much more than his groceries. No, I think we shall just have to do without a burglar. Unless..." He paused for a moment, an evil grin coming to his face. " _You_ could be our burglar! Why, take your boots off, and you'd be no taller than he, really. No beard; that would confuse Smaug as much as seeing a Hobbit would! Oi!" This last bit was more of a yelp really, as an apple flew out of his brother's hand, and hit him square on the side of his head. He growled, kicking out with his foot, and catching Kili in the thigh. In retaliation, Kili threw another apple, catching Fili in the same spot as before, moments before the older brother reached out, and grabbed Kili's arm, attempting to yank him off his pony.

"That's enough, both of you!" Dwalin barked from just ahead of them, stopping the all-out brawl that was starting. "Or I'll send you _both_ home to your mother tied over your saddles!"

"There. See what you've gone and done now?"

"Me?!  _You're_  the one who threw the apple, you beardless son of an Ogre!"

"But  _you_  –"

"I said, that's enough!" Dwalin's voice positively thundered, cutting through the quiet of the woods, sending birds scattering from the tree tops.

Both brothers settled back into their saddles, glaring daggers at each other, but silent. They'd had enough experience with the old dwarf warrior to know that he wasn't one to make idle threats; they also knew that he was  _more_  than capable of carrying out whatever threats he made. They'd seen those thick, tattooed, tree-trunk sized arms throw around heavier dwarves then themselves without breaking a sweat, or blinking an eye.

"Well, I _still_ think he'll come," Kili finally muttered after a few minutes, still glaring sullenly. "His great-great-great grandfather was a mighty warrior; surely he'll not dishonor his family name."

"Oh, come now, Kili; he's not a dwarf! I doubt he's even heard of the man! Besides, it's not like he's an _actual_ burglar!"

"Care to wager on it?"

"Wager on what?" Came the call from further ahead, Balin turning a bit in his saddle.

"Whether or not Mr. Boggins will show up!" Fili called back with a laugh. "I'll take that wager, Kili. Ten shillings, and my extra blanket says he won't."

"Aye! I agree," Oin said loudly, tapping his earpiece out. "I'll bet my spare pipe on it!"

"Oh, come now, laddies! I think the little bugger has an adventurous streak in him!" Gloin said with a laugh. "Matter o' fact, I'd wager my last flagon of mead on it!"

As soon as the word 'mead' had been uttered, the betting began in earnest. Nori offered up his embroidered leather gloves saying he wouldn't, while Bofur bet half a bag of his South Farling pipe tobacco that he would. Dwalin wagered one of his small throwing axes that the Hobbit wouldn't be able to find the Company, even if he did want to go along, while Ori put up four of his mother's sugar-rolls that Mr. 'Boggins' would find them before they'd even left the Shire.

"And what say you, Uncle?" Kili called ahead, after staking one of his many knives, along with the small leather sheath their mother had made for him.

"I say it matters little enough to me whether or not the Halfling chooses to come. And I'll not wager anything on someone who means nothing to me either way."

"Well, I say he _shall_ come!" Gandalf said, breaking the awkward silence that followed Thorin's harsh words. He rode up next to Balin – who'd been designated to hold all wagered items – and handed the elderly dwarf a small pouch. "I'll put two gold pieces to it!"

"I've always envied that knife, little brother," Fili said with a laugh, when all the bets had finally been placed. "It's really a fine piece of craftsman ship. Mum did a superb job on that sheath; imagine what she'll say when she finds out you lost it."

Kili paused, reining his pony in, a smile breaking over his features as he turned his head to the north.

"I imagine you'll have a tougher time explaining how you the blanket she sewed for you, dear brother!" He said with a laugh. "For here comes our burglar!"

Sure enough, the words were hardly out of his mouth, when the cries of "Wait! I'm coming!" greeted their ears.

Bilbo couldn't understand what the various groans, and laughter were about as he ran into the clearing.


	3. Chapter 3

Kili turned, his ears picking up the high-pitched shrieks almost instantly, his face turning to a frown as Bilbo turned towards them.

"What was that?" The little man asked nervously, pointing over the ledge of their camp.

"Orcs," Kili said slowly, the sound a familiar one. He'd heard it often enough during the Orc raids on the outlying villages surrounding the Blue Mountains he’d grown up in. Although it was a bit odd for them to be this far south.

"Orcs?!" 'Boggins' voice slid up at least an octave, the youngest dwarf noticed. He bit back a grin, as he met his brother's eyes, seeing the agreement there.

"Aye. Throat cutters. There will be dozens of them out there," Fili said, taking a long puff of his pipe, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "Lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike... In the wee, small hours, when everybody's asleep. Quick and quiet. No screams. Just lots of blood."

Both he and Fili began chuckling at the nervous, panicked look on their burglar's face. Their camp was protected well-enough; no orcs would be able to sneak up on them, not with the sheer cliffs behind them, and only one pathway up. There was – for the night at least – no cause for fear, although the Halfling clearly didn’t understand that. He eyed the darkness of the valley with fear evident in his face, causing another round of chuckles from the brothers.

"You think that's… _funny_?" Thorin's voice quickly took the humor out of the entire situation. "You think a night raid by orcs is a _joke_?"

"We... we didn't mean anything by it," Kili finally muttered, ducking his head in embarrassment.

"No. You didn't. You know  _nothing_  of the world. You should  _never_  have come."

* * *

 

"You know you're breaking the boy's spirit."

Thorin snorted, refilling his pipe as his oldest – and probably wisest – friend sat across from him. After snapping at his youngest nephew, the Exiled King had wandered a ways down the path, wanting to be alone with his thoughts.

But Balin had had other ideas, he thought ruefully.

"I'd rather send him back to his mother with a broken _spirit_ , than to not have him return at all because of a broken skull. Besides... There is nothing... humorous... about an orc attack. He laughs at things he doesn’t understand."

Balin gave him a patient smile, leaning back against the rock he was sitting on as the white-haired dwarf lit his own pipe. "I seem to remember another young dwarfling who laughed and joked when he shouldn't. A young dwarfling who thought it absolutely hysterical to slice off his little sister's hair the day before her presentation to the High Court. The same dwarfling who later slipped a handful of tadpoles into his grandfather's finest wine, which was presented at a rather large feast to the Elven King. A young dwarfling who was thought it would be humorous to dye the king's adviser's beard pink."

Thorin couldn't help the small chuckle. "It took you months before it finally returned to its natural color."

"Aye. Almost half a year, if my memory serves me well," Balin said with a smile, before his face grew serious again. "Tell me, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under The Mountain... Is it fear... or  _envy_  that makes you so harsh on the lad? Fear that he will someday face something that ages him before his time, turning him bitter, and hard-hearted as what happened to you? Or is it envy that he is still able to laugh, and joke, as if nothing can dampen his spirits, when you have not laughed in almost a hundred years?"

Thorin glared at the white-haired dwarf, before growling, "It's  _neither_ , you meddlesome old _fool_. I have already had to bring death tidings to my sister for her grandfather, her brother, and her husband. I  _weary_  of being the bearer of ill news. How then, if you are so _wise_ , recommend you I tell her of her youngest son's death? 'Dearest sister, I'm so sorry that Kili will not be returning to you. He was too busy dancing and laughing to see the orc that took his head'. No, dear friend," He said, his voice softening as he stood, turning his gaze to his nephews by the fire. "I will not be the one to tell her that. I would rather face a hundred lifetimes of agony than to be the one to tell Dis that she can never cast her gaze on her son's smiling face again."

He was starting to walk back towards the camp, when he heard Balin's quiet voice again.

"Continue as you are, Thorin... And she'll never see the boy smile again, whether he survives this journey or not."

* * *

 

"I do believe he hates me."

Fili looked up from his pipe in surprise. "What? How can you say such a thing, brother?!"

Kili nodded towards their uncle and Balin, who were sitting well away from the campfire, Thorin's face radiating with anger. While he couldn't quite make out the words between the two, it was obvious what the disagreement between the two elder dwarves were.

"How can I not? He can't even bear to look at me half the time," He said with a snort, his eyes dark and brooding as he poked at the fire with a piece of wood.

"He only worries about you, Kili. You know that," Fili said softly, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder.

But Kili pulled away sharply. "Easy for you to say. I notice he doesn't... _'worry'_ at you. He never has. He's always thought me too... Too  _everything_!" He snapped, throwing the stick into the flames. "I have always been too foolish, or too small, too loud, or too merry, too...  _different_ ," He finished quietly. "Even as a dwarfling, he never had much use for me, I imagine."

"Kili, you're being an idiot," Fili said firmly, tapping the embers from his pipe on a rock. "Uncle loves you dearly. Why would he worry so much if he didn't love you? He simply wants you safe. That’s all."

Kili scoffed as he stood, grabbing his bow from where it lay next to him, and hooking it over his shoulders as he stalked away from the fire.

* * *

 

"And just where do you think you're going?" Thorin demanded, grabbing his dark-haired nephew’s shoulder, as the lad stalked by him.

"For a walk. Is that allowed, or do I need a nanny for that as well?" Kili demanded, yanking away from his grasp.

Too stunned to say anything – _Kili had never snapped at his uncle like that, not once in his seventy five years_ – Thorin could only watch as the youngest of his family line stomped off into the darkness. 

"And where is your troll-brained brother off to?" Thorin demanded, coming to a stop in front of Fili.

"Anywhere that's away from you, I would imagine, Uncle," Fili said with a shrug, not looking up from sharpening his sword.

"Excuse me?"

"Well... He seems to think you hate him, Uncle," His oldest nephew said casually, as if he were talking of nothing more than the weather. "Can't say as I blame him, really. I probably would be wondering the same thing."

"And just what's that supposed to mean?" Thorin said scornfully, hardening his gaze as he folded his arms over his chest. That glare had made Men and Dwarves run for the plains before…

But it had no effect on his light-haired nephew, who still refused to look at him.

"It means, _Uncle_ , that – if I were him – I'd probably think you hated me too. I find myself wondering why you let him raise his hopes about coming along, if all you planned on doing was dashing those hopes to the shoals again and again. It might have been kinder for you to just send him home."

"That can still be arranged, Fili," Thorin threatened, taking a step closer to the small fire. "Don't think it can't."

Finally, his heir looked up, finally meeting his eyes as he stood. And the strength Thorin seen there surprised him almost as much as Fili's words did.

"Then do it, Uncle! I would rather have him home and miserable, than sit by and watch you crush his spirit anymore! Either accept that he's here, and leave him be, or find him now, and send him back to the Blue Mountains! But I’ll not stand here and watch you belittle and insult him anymore! He is my _brother_ , your _nephew_ , and your _heir_! You heed me well, Thorin Oakenshield, I will listen to it no longer!"

Thorin pulled back sharply, his nephew’s words shocking him more than any sword, lance, or axe ever could. Fili practically vibrated in his anger, hands resting on his swords, blue eyes daring Thorin to speak.

* * *

 

Kili finally came to rest at the bottom of the path, glaring up at the large oak tree in front of him for a few moments before pulling himself up onto the lowest most branches.

Funny how he was far more at home in a tree, high above the earth than he was deep below it. What he'd told his brother was true enough: he'd always been a little odd for a dwarf, and even he knew it. From his love of trees, to his still-lacking beard, he'd never fit in amongst even his own kin, much less the stuffier, more traditional dwarves of the Blue Mountain where he'd been raised.

Even his weapon of choice – the finely crafted bow strapped to his back – made him stand out. Dwarves simply didn't use _bows_. Throwing axes, definitely; throwing daggers, maybe, but not bows.  _Bows were an Elvish weapon_. He'd heard that said so many times –usually in a tone that implied some sort of devilry –that he’d simply stopped counting long ago.

His mother had often told him that he was fine, just the way he was. That his beard would grow in eventually –never mind that Fili's had been long enough to braid by his seventieth name day, and Kili still had little more than a shadow at seventy-five. Told him that a weapon was a weapon; simply a tool to be used, and if it saved his life, it mattered little what it was. That there was absolutely nothing wrong with hating being underground; that she herself hated the confined feeling of being in the mines.

Which was all well and good for _her_. She was, after all, a  _woman_. She wasn't expected to spend her time in the forges deep within the mines. Wasn't expected to live  _her_  life underground, or in the dark.

He'd heard the other dwarf mothers muttering about him, their dark eyes calculating when he would appear to take their daughters on a walk, or to go drinking with their sons. Wondering if his blood-line –the line of Durin – was enough to counterbalance... well,  _him_.

The looks would start as soon as he appeared at the door. After thirty years spent in the forge with Gloin, and fifty years spent training with Dwalin, he was muscular enough, but he just wasn't  _broad_  enough. Fili had nearly five inches more round his chest than Kili did, with the wide shoulders to match.. And it just didn't seem to matter how much work the younger brother did, or how much food he packed away, it seemed that he was simply cursed to live with a slight frame and build.

The beard was just the final straw. A dwarf with  _no_  beard was as unheard of as an elf  _with_  a beard. Every other dwarf his age was already able to braid their beard, or mustache and use their family emblem clasp, except for him. Fili had crafted his own two silver clasps, bearing the crest of the House of Durin almost twenty years ago, under their uncle's watchful eye.

And Kili was left with... with  _peach fuzz_ , he thought angrily, hurling a branch down out of the tree. It wasn't fair.

* * *

 

It was only years of instinct that saved Thorin Oakenshield from receiving a rather large bump on the head, sidestepping to the right just in time to avoid the tree limb that was flung down from the tree.

"That better have not been intentional," He growled, standing at the base of the tree, hands on his hips as he glared up towards the upper branches, where he could just make out his youngest nephew.

"Wha – Uncle!" Kili's voice was an interesting mix of astonishment, and fear, Thorin noted with a grim smile.

"Indeed. And I should hope you  _weren't_  aiming for me; that missed by a league." Almost before they'd left his mouth, Thorin wished he could take them back. He sighed, shaking his head for a moment, before looking up again. "Why don't you come down here, and sit with your uncle for a moment?"

"If it's all the same, I'd rather not," Came the very formal response from somewhere high above him. The boy must have climbed higher, as Thorin lost sight of the lad.

He ground his teeth for a few moments, before unhooking his cloak from around his shoulders, and grasping at the lower branches. He could hear Kili's gasp of disbelief as the King Under the Mountain slowly began pulling himself up the tree, always careful to test the branches with his weight first. The last time he'd been tree-climbing, he'd been a good hundred and fifty pounds lighter.

 _And nearly a hundred years younger_ , he thought with a rueful smile.

Thorin couldn't help but chuckle at the shocked look on his nephew's face as he came to a stop on the opposite side of the tree of the younger dwarf.

"I was quite the climber in my younger years," He said, leaning against the trunk of the tree to get comfortable. "Used to spend all my time in the trees, instead of doing my lessons."

"You'll forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe, Uncle," Kili said stiffly, staring down at the ground.

Thorin sighed, snapping a small branch off, and turning it idly in his hands as he spoke. "Kili... I know you think I'm being too hard on you, lad. And maybe I am," He admitted slowly. "But... I see so much of myself in you. And I think of the mistakes I've made. Things I would have done differently, if I could. So many things..."

Kili frowned, unsure exactly what the point of the conversation was as his uncle's voice trailed off, the older dwarf's face brooding and pensive as he stared out over the lowlands.

"I don't want to see you make those same mistakes, Kili,” He finally said, his voice quiet.” The same mistakes that I made. And maybe that is why I find myself... overly critical when it comes to you, laddie. You and your brother..." Thorin paused, a sad smile coming over his face. "Well, you remind me of Frerin and myself. Although, it was a little different... I was the older brother. Supposed to be the more  _responsible_  one. When I think of some of the messes I dragged Frerin and your mother into... Well, suffice to say, I imagine my grandfather lay awake many nights, worried about the state of his kingdom should I ever ascend the throne. There was actually talk amongst some in the Court that perhaps I should be passed over as heir; that Frerin should be named, instead of myself."

Kili's eyes widened in shock. "What? But you... You're one of the greatest dwarf warriors since Thrain the First!"

"But I wasn't a hundred and fifty years ago, nephew. Then I was just... Thrain's very... ' _different_ ' son. Didn't have the right countenance for a dwarf, they always used to say. I was far too busy off adventuring to spend time in the forges, or the mines, or doing my lessons. A young dwarfling who would disappear for weeks at a time, venturing far and wide across the lands of my ancestors, consorting with all manners of folk," Thorin said with a soft smile, remembering some of the messes he had gotten himself into. Finally, he shook himself a bit, before turning back to his nephew. "It was often said that my mother never had a gray hair on her head before I learned to walk. Just like they say about you and your mother, although you and Fili have come nowhere close to the mischief I used to raise."

"I meant no disrespect, Uncle. Before, I mean," Kili said after a few minutes of silence. "I only wanted to frighten our burglar."

Thorin nodded, giving his nephew a smile. "I know you didn't, Kili. And I had no cause to snap at you as I did.”

The two were silent for a few minutes, before Thorin chuckled.

 “Although I imagine a sneeze in the dark would frighten the Halfling just as well."


	4. Ponies

Kili frowned, biting his lip, as he ran his mental head count of the ponies again. And then a third time. _And then a_ _fourth_.

 _Fourteen_. And of all the ponies missing... Bongo,  _Thorin's_  pony was among the two missing.

"Fili?" He called out quietly, glancing back at his brother.

Fili didn't move from his quite comfortable spot nestled against the tree, not even opening his eyes as he lethargically replied, "What?"

"How many ponies do we have again?"

"Sixteen," Came the sleepy reply. Then a moment later, "Why do you ask?" Fili finally sat up a bit, fixing his brother with a funny look.

"Because… we only have fourteen."

"What? You must have miscounted," The older brother said, rolling his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet, and moving to his brother's side.

"I've been walked it four times now, brother. We're two ponies short."

Kili waited impatiently while Fili made a quick circle around the area they'd been keeping the ponies, before the blonde dwarf finally frowned, stopping a few feet away, staring out into the darkness.

"How in Durin's name did you _lose_   _two_   _ponies_?!"

" _Me_?!  _You're_  the one who was sleeping!" Kili said incredulously, glaring at his older brother.

"I wasn't sleeping! I was  _resting_! And just where in Durin's name were you?!"

"I had to water the bushes!"

"You should have woken me up!"

"I thought you weren't  _sleeping_!"

"Oh, shut up," Fili muttered, running a hand across his forehead. "Mahal, _what_ are we going to tell Uncle?"

Kili didn't say anything to that, as he stared at the remaining ponies, his heart caught in his throat. Telling Thorin that they'd lost two ponies – especially so quickly on the heels of their last argument – wasn't something he planned on doing.  _Ever_. Briefly, he debated as to whether running back to the Blue Mountains, or slitting his own throat would be preferable to telling Uncle they'd lost  _his_  pony. _He was going to kill them when he found out_.

"So... What do we do?" He finally asked, glancing over at his brother.

"Well... There’s nothing for it. You'll just have to tell Uncle," Fili said firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Me?! He likes  _you_  better.  _You_ go and tell him," Kili shot back.

"Alright then. I will."

Kili stared at his brother expectantly, waiting for the older dwarf to move. After a few minutes, he said, "Well, go on then."

"I'm... working up to it," Fili muttered, glaring at him.

They were still standing there silently, when Mr. 'Boggins' appeared a few minutes later.

"What's the matter?" The burglar asked, clearly confused by their silence as he held out their dinner.

"We're… supposed to be looking after the ponies," Kili said, trying to keep his voice level.

"Only... we've encountered a slight problem," Fili cut in.

"We had sixteen."

"Now there's... fourteen."

Kili finally forced his feet to move, as he started towards the ponies. "Daisy and Bongo are missing," He informed the burglar, hoping that the Halfling would realize that Bongo was Thorin's pony, and just how serious the situation was.

And Mr. 'Boggins' obviously did. His eyes grew large as he trailed behind Fili. "Well that's... That's not good," He said hoarsely, with a high-pitched, very forced laugh. "And... and that's not good at all!" He added, pointing to an uprooted tree. "Shouldn't we tell Thorin?"

"Uh... No. Best not to worry him," Fili said quickly, walking around the tree. "As our official burglar, we thought... you might like to look into it."

"Well... well, something... something big uprooted these trees," 'Boggins' said, stuttering a bit.

"That was our thinking," Kili interjected, hoping that the Halfling could come up with something better than that.

"Yes. Very big. And possibly... Quite dangerous."

Kili could see his older brother rolling his eyes, and resisted the urge to do the same. That was absolutely no help at all.

But suddenly, Fili dropped into a crouch. "Kili!" He called quietly. "There's a light! Over here!"

All three of them dropped behind a fallen log, peeking their heads up over the top.

"What is it?"

Kili could feel his teeth grinding, as he bit out, "Trolls."

 _Trolls_. Of all things to encounter in the _lowlands_ of all places, why did it have to be _trolls_? He wondered bitterly, as he jumped over the log, edging closer to the fire.

Trolls were _nasty_ buggers to run into. He'd only had the misfortune of running into one before, but he remembered how hard they were to fight. The only way to actually  _kill_  a troll was with sunlight; otherwise the most that could be done to them was superficial wounds, no matter how deeply you cut them, or how hard you bashed them. The idea with trolls was to try and aggravate them into going away, or hold them off long enough for them to turn to stone with morning's light.

He and Fili ducked just in time to avoid being seen by a huge, hulking brute of a troll –  _much, much larger than the the one they'd fought twenty years ago_  – carrying two more ponies.

"He's got Myrtle and Minty!" Bilbo hissed from a few feet away. "I think they're going to eat them! We have to do something!"

"Yes! You should!" Kili said quickly, an idea forming in his head as he snapped his bowl out of the hobbit's hand. "Mountain trolls are so slow and stupid, and you're so small, they'll never see you!"

"What?! Me?! No, no, no, no!"

"It's perfectly safe! We'll be right behind you!"

Fili clearly picked up on his little brother's plan – _Thorin was far less likely to kill the hobbit for losing the ponies than he was his nephews_  – as he grabbed his bowl. "If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a brown owl, and once like a barn owl!"


	5. And Trolls

Kili had only taken a few spoonfuls of the soup, when a thought struck him.

"Fili?"

"Hm?" Fili muttered around a mouthful of soup.

"Do they even  _have_  owls in the Shire?"

Fili stared at him, blank-faced, for a minute, before setting his dish down on the log. "I'll have to go get the others, I suppose" He said with a sigh, darting off back through the trees.

"Suppose that means I have to rescue the burglar then,” Kili said with a sigh of his own, drawing his sword, and moving as quietly as he could towards the light of the troll fire.

* * *

 

"A burglahobbit?"

Kili groaned silently as he peered through the dense foliage, seeing Bilbo standing in between two trolls.

"Can we cook it?"

"We can try!"

 _Where was Fili with the others_ , he thought desperately, hand gripping his sword tightly, a sense of uselessness washing over him as he watched Bilbo try and squirm his way underneath the trolls, only to be stopped by a third troll, shoving the Halfling back with a very large frying pan.

"He wouldn't make more than a mouth full; not after he's been skinned and boned."

"Are there more burglahobbits 'round these parts? Might be enough for a pie!"

"Grab it!"

For a split second, Kili had the flash of hope that Bilbo might _actually_ be able to slip away, as he darted to and fro around the fire. But the hobbit –sentimental fool! – dashed towards the ponies, still trying –valiantly, if stupidly –trying to save the dumb beasts. That was when one of the trolls grabbed him by the feet, hanging him over their pot.

"Gotcha! Are there any more of you hiding where you shouldn't?"

"No," Bilbo said, glancing around –probably wondering where Fili and Kili were – and Kili cursed whatever was taking Fili so long.

"He's lying!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Hold his toes over the fire! Make him squeal!"

Well, nothing for it, he thought. Couldn’t let the dumb things torture the little bugger waiting for Fili –Mahal curse him for being slower than a cold snail. Kili took a deep breath, steadying his sword in his hand for a moment. Then, with a roar, he charged into the clearing, slicing at one of the troll’s legs with as much force as he could muster.

"Drop him!" He yelled, hoping the others were close by as he found himself suddenly staring up at three very large, very angry trolls, thinking that this definitely hadn't been one of his brighter ideas.  _Where in Durin's name was Fili with Thorin and the others?_ All three of the trolls were easily four times his height, and at least three times his weight.

"Do what?"

"I said... Drop him!" He repeated, grasping his sword with both hands, wondering if there was any way he was going to walk away from this confounded mess.

There was no time to duck, as the troll suddenly threw Bilbo at him. Even as light as the hobbit was, Kili felt the air rushing from his lungs as they both hit the root-covered floor with a painful thud.

He was cursing his rotten luck, trying to shove Boggins off of him before the trolls had them both, when he heard the trees rustling behind him.

Thinking quickly, he pulled Bilbo close to him, pinning him down as Thorin leaped over them with a fierce cry, followed by Dwalin and Gloin, the others coming out behind them.

As soon as he was sure he wasn't about to be crushed by a leaping dwarf, Kili threw Bilbo off, before jumping up, and into the fray. Almost unconsciously, he found himself moving towards Fili.

"Took you long enough!" He yelled, jamming his sword down on a troll's foot.

Fili only glared at him, before ducking as a large fist swung towards the both of them.

* * *

 

Thorin spared the briefest glance around as he fought off one of the trolls who'd decided to go after Ori, trying to spot his nephews in the chaos. Fili was hacking and slashing next to Bofur, while Kili...

He bit back a groan as he watched his youngest nephew slide underneath one of the large brutes, coming up and slicing at the hand that was grabbing for him, backing far enough away to be out of the range of Gloin's large ax. At least the boy knew enough to let the dwarves with the heavier weapons deal the most damage, he thought briefly.

Then he had to devote his full attention to the troll in front of him.

* * *

 

Kili dashed to Ori's side as the weakest member of their company was thrown across the clearing, before he felt his uncle's hand on his arm. He jumped a little despite himself, the battle rage still coursing through his veins, before he realized everything had gone quiet. He was startled to find his arms shaking with adrenaline, as he followed Thorin's gaze, wondering  _why_  everything had stopped.

_Oh no._

He growled low in his throat, grasping his sword with both hands again as he seen two of the trolls holding an arm and a leg each of the Halfling.

"Bilbo!" He cried, before one of Thorin's thick arms shoved him back.

"Put down your arms! Or we'll rip _his_ off!" The tallest of the three trolls said with a sick smile.

* * *

 

"Another fine mess you lads have gotten us into," Gloin growled.

"Oh shut it! It's hard enough to breath with you sitting on me, without you bouncing your fat stomach about," Kili shot back, struggling to free his hands.

"Oh, is it now?" The red-haired dwarf said maliciously, digging his elbow into Kili's ribcage. "How terribly inconvenient for you, you  _beardless_  oaf!"

"You leave him alone! When I get out of here, I'm going to cut that mangy fur right off your face, you red-haired son of an orc!" Fili snapped, from somewhere to Kili's left.

"Quiet! All of you!" Thorin hissed. "This isn't helping!"

"Let's get a move on! Dawn ain't that far off, and I don't fancy being turned to stone!"

Suddenly, Kili felt something digging into his arm, and he turned his head just enough to see the hobbit trying to crawl clear of the massive pile of dwarves they’d been thrown into.

"Wait!" Bilbo cried, shoving himself to his feet. "You are making a _terrible_ mistake!"

"You can't reason with them! They're halfwits!" Nori cried from up on the spit.

"Halfwit? What's that make us, then?"

"I meant with uh... With the seasoning!" Bilbo said, clearly ignoring the others as he hopped closer to the fire.

"What... about... the seasoning?" One of the trolls growled.

"Well, have you smelled them? You're going to need something a lot stronger than sage before you crate this lot up!"

"You traitor!" Kili ground out, hearing the other dwarves yell similar curses towards the damnable hobbit. The little coward was going to try and sell them out to save his own skin! After they'd thrown down their weapons to save his measly little hide!

"And what do _you_ know about cooking dwarf?"

"Shut up! Let the uh... furlaburlgahobbit talk!"

"The secret to, uh, cooking dwarf is..."

"Yes?"

"Is um..."

"C'mon! Tell us the secret!"

"I'm telling you! The secret to cooking dwarf is to uh... to skin them first!"

Thorin alone was silent as a chorus of angry calls came from his company, yelling various insults and curses at the Halfling. He knew the little rat was trying to buy them time –  _a good idea, though he hated to admit that he hadn't thought of it firs_ t – but  _skinning_? Was the bugger absolutely mad?

"What a load of rubbish!" One of the trolls was saying. "Won't be nothin' left to 'em once they're skinned!"

"He's right! Nothin' wrong with a bit of raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy!" The smallest one said, grabbing Bombur, and lowering the ginger haired dwarf towards his mouth.

"No, no, no, no!" Bilbo all but squeaked. "Not that one! He's... he's... He's infected!"

"Say what?"

"He's got worms! In his... tubes? In fact... They all have! They're infested with parasites! It's a terrible business, I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

"Parasites? Did he say parasites?" Oin shouted, having lost his ear trumpet somewhere in the fracas.

"What?! We don't have parasites! You have parasites!" Kili yelled, still struggling to try and get out from underneath Bombur, who'd been dropped on him.

 _Oh for the love of The Maker..._ Thorin lashed out as hard as he could with his left foot, hearing a satisfying grunt of pain from his darker-haired nephew, who turned his head towards him with a questioning look, along with the others laying around him.

Finally,  _Oin_  seemed to grasp what the Halfling was doing, of all people.

"I've got parasites as big as my arm!" The gray-haired dwarf said loudly.

"Mine are the biggest parasites; I've got _huge_ parasites!" Kili added.

 _The deaf one and the youngest one would figure it out first_ , Thorin thought grimly, as the entire company slowly caught on, and started shouting out about who had the biggest parasites, and who'd had them the longest.

"What would you have us do then? Let them all go?" The largest of the trolls growled, stooping down close to Bilbo's face.

"Well..."

"You think I don't know what you're up to?" The troll barked, poking Bilbo with one of his fat fingers. "This little ferret is takin' us for fools!"

"The dawn will take you all!"

Thorin had never been so glad to see the gray-haired wizard in his entire life.

_He wasn't sure he could handle much more stupidity in one night._


End file.
